


Don't Let Him Out Of Your Sight

by AppleTeeth



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:30:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleTeeth/pseuds/AppleTeeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt is known for getting in over his head, but this time he is hurt, so far from home and cannot see a way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Him Out Of Your Sight

**Author's Note:**

> undercover-newmann-fangirl on Tumblr wanted a fic where Newt gets beaten up and Hermann takes care of him. It's a bit more angsty than was probably asked for, but I ran with the idea and it took me here. Pre-movie. Written in one sitting so if there are mistakes I will edit later with fresh eyes.

For a time, the only thing he could hear was his own stuttering breath. He was out on the streets, hunched up against an abandoned storefront and the sounds of the city should be filling his ears - the traffic, the people, the rain and the variety of pitter-patters it caused on every surface. Newt had once described it as musical and always loved the sounds of a busy city engulfing his senses.

Now he could only hear his own ragged breathing. It shuddered as it drew into his chest like wind through old shutters and he coughed more than exhaled, wincing in pain every single time. He swore in-between coughs like he was the drunk, dirty tramp he thought he looked like, because he was still amazed it had happened and nobody had stepped in to stop it.

He had his hand to his eye because that fat ring had come so close to blinding him he was still amazed it seemed intact. Not that he could see through it, as a rising bruise just below the lid had swollen up and forced it shut. In fact, with his glasses lost somewhere during the beatings he couldn't see much at all, so he huddled against the wall just to ground himself more than anything.

Newt had been beaten up before, but that was back when he was a kid and a pompous little know-it-all who could never sit still in class and called all the other kids idiots because they didn't understand the advanced theories he was babbling about. Plus his German accent didn't help. You lose your accent quickly when everyone hates you for it. No, the last time he had got really, properly beaten up was when he was too young and too clever and also too stupid for his own good.

And he'd been jumped by muggers before, but he had thrown them his wallet and phone and that was the end of it. This time, Newt just didn't have anything on him. He was being honest when he held up his hands and tried to remember how to say the word "Nothing" in Cantonese and then Mandarin and getting both translations wrong before trying English but they had already thrown the first punch to get him to hand his things over. He had doubled over in pain and as he stumbled he tried to open out his pockets to show he had nothing but a fraying map of the downtown area, a set of keys to his lab and his PPDC ID badge. Maybe a stick of gum.

They had taken that as a sign he was reaching for a weapon and two guys knocked him down at once before kicking him in the back and stomach until Newt was motionless. Then someone grabbed him by his shirt to pull him up, only to punch him several times in the face, as if to make sure he definitely wasn't going to try to walk around their neighbourhood without a pocketful of money ever again. They dropped him to the ground and walked away. They didn't even _run_.

Newt was all too aware he needed to get up and try to get back to the Shatterdome. Medical centres came with requests for paperwork or cash up front and with neither Newt would either be told to wait for what could be days or simply to find somewhere else that would treat him. The war had made luxuries out of health care; especially in cities so close to the Pacific Ocean.

He tried to pull himself up and immediately regretted it. It hurt enough every time he tried to breathe, but pain exploded through his chest and stomach with the most tentative of movements. He felt a sob rise in his throat and he tried to form the words to plead with the people walking by but who could blame them for not stopping? Who had the supplies lying around to help him when he was in the middle of the slums in the middle of a world war?

The only thing he could do was try to build up some sort of momentum to get up and maybe try to flag down a cab and plead with the security guards to pay his fare when he reached the gates. Again, the cabs around here wanted to see money up front. Pain overwhelming him from even pondering his next move, Newton finally put his head in his hands and gave up.

"Newton?"

A hand touched his arm and he immediately cried out in pain as he tried to pull away. They were back to finish the job.

"Newton, it's okay. It's going to be okay. Can you get up?"

He tried to say no but Hermann had already thrown an arm over his shoulder and pulled him up. Newt cried out -  a silent, breathless scream of winded pain - and put all of his weight onto the other man.

"Do your best to walk, Newton. There's a cab just round the corner. I told him to wait."

Newt was in too much to pain to really listen but he tried to walk none the less, stumbling every few feet and dragging Hermann down at times. He realised, as he was helped into the cab, that Hermann had been using his cane to support both of them. The man was stronger than he looked.

The cab ride was slow and painful as every bump, every slam of the brakes, every fast turn made Newt feel pain of some variety. A hand was snaked around his waist, very gently holding him whilst the other was stroking his hair. He didn't realise he was crying until he felt a handkerchief carefully wipe his face. It was then held over what had to be a bad cut under his eye and Newt took over, pressing it down more than possibly necessary, hoping if he concentrated all the pain on that spot then the rest would die down.

He was helped out of the cab, hearing Hermann speaking Cantonese to the driver as he gave him more than enough to cover the fare and Newt felt so stupid for getting himself in this mess. He had gone for a walk, like a fucking idiot tourist who had no clue to the horrors around him. Like he could just take a stroll in the crime-ridden city now crumbling from the inside out after the rich had abandoned them. He didn't even have a fucking phrase book on him, like they would all speak his language.

As he continued to hate himself, he was being lowered onto a stretcher and wheeled into the Shatterdome towards the infirmary. He looked up with his good eye and could make out Hermann walking alongside him, looking stone-faced and possibly even angry but it was so hard to tell with him. Newt closed his eyes and concentrated on the pain throbbing with each heart beat.

The patched him up as best they could. There was little that could be done for broken ribs but his organs were all intact so there were small mercies. His cheek was sewn up with a steady hand and his left wrist was put in plaster. Bruises rose amongst the monsters on his skin and it made the colours grotesque; like an oil painting that was half burnt in a house-fire. Without his glasses he was staring out at basic outlines but no faces, which made him feel so very alone and if too many surrounded him at once he put up his hands and begged them to leave him alone, like the men were back to finish the job.

Later into the night, the infirmary too silent and too big and choking him nonetheless, he heard the telltale click of a cane hitting concrete floor. He didn't mean to cry but his hands were shaking and he couldn't see and he didn't understand how Hermann had found him and why couldn't he think for once before he leapt into an adventure?

"Shh," he heard Hermann say softly, and long fingers combed through Newt's hair. "Shh, it's okay."

Newt tried to say something but his chest hurt so much he thought he was drowning. He gasped and grabbed the man's arm frantically.

He felt the bed move as Hermann sat down on it, putting his arms around him and holding Newt close to his chest. Newt pulled at Hermann's shirt like a child and realised how much he was shaking. Those fingers raked through his hair again and it felt so good when everything else hurt so much.

"It'll be okay, I promise you. Just take long, slow breaths. Listen to me and copy my breathing."

With his head against Hermann's chest he could feel his slow, even breaths and did his best to copy. He coughed loudly and still shook, but the fear pressing in on him was loosening its grip. He gulped in large amounts of air and wiped his eyes, hissing in pain as it brushed against the stitches. Finally the pressure was waning and he was holding Hermann rather than using him as an anchor. Fingers were still combing his hair and he concentrated on that feeling and how good it felt. 

"I'm sorry," he finally mumbled after a few false starts, pulling away from Hermann and wincing as he laid back down on the bed.

He couldn't see very well but he could just make out Hermann wiping his own eyes carefully.

"Oh, shut up, Newton," he said but Newt could hear the smile.

The next words were even harder to come out.

"Can you... can you stay... stay here?"

And Hermann looked shocked at him, which Newt took as a look of disgust. He got himself into his mess and now he wanted Hermann to stay with him? What more was he to expect of the man? Hermann didn't even _like_ him.

"I wasn't planning on leaving," Hermann said matter-of-factly. He got up to pull a chair towards the bed and as soon as he sat down Newt grabbed his hand, holding onto it like it was the last scrap of comfort on earth.

The bed moved again and Newt was lifted gently until he was resting up against Hermann who in turn was resting against the bed frame and the wall. Their fingers entwined together and Hermann put his other arm around the injured man to make sure he knew he was grounded and he was safe. Newt tried to speak again but he was overcome with exhaustion. His head lolled and Hermann guided it into his lap, fingers combing his hair and saying words of comfort once more. The pain still throbbed and blossomed at various points, but his breathing was steady and his shaking was down to a shiver. He fell asleep still clutching Hermann's hand.


End file.
